


So Close to Losing

by goalielove43



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Depression, Loneliness, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, NHL RPF, Pittsburgh Penguins, reaching out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22529659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goalielove43/pseuds/goalielove43
Summary: "Sid... something's wrong with Geno. I don't mean like hospital-wrong, just... something's off, you know?"When Sid had answered the phone - Tristan's caller ID popping up - he hadn't expected it to be a call about Geno. Honestly, he hadn't known what to expect.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 91





	So Close to Losing

**Author's Note:**

> None of this is real or considered to even be remotely the truth about any of these people.  
> I almost lost someone close to me yesterday. I wrote the first half of this in the morning, before I knew. I wrote the rest today in some attempt to sort my own emotions out. Maybe this isn't anyone else's truth, but it's mine. Reach out to your friends and family, guys.

"Sid... something's wrong with Geno. I don't mean like hospital-wrong, just... something's off, you know?"

When Sid had answered the phone - Tristan's caller ID popping up - he hadn't expected it to be a call about Geno. Honestly, he hadn't known what to expect. It wasn't that he and Tristan didn't talk; it was more that rarely he'd had anything to express to Sid and for the most part if he did have an issue, he went to Matt about it. Goalie solidarity or whatever. But this... this call about _Geno_ of all people was something Sid wasn't quite sure how to deal with given who it was coming from.

He slid forward on his couch and settled with one arm braced on his thigh, gaze on the beige carpet beneath him, forcing his mind to engage as if this were just another call for the Captain of the team, not a call about one of his closest friends and the man wearing the big A on the team. "With his game or...?"

Tristan sighed, the sound of it fuzzing across the line with an intensity that gave him the answer before it was spoken. "No, his game is fine. Relatively speaking, anyway. It's more," there was hesitation there and then, "emotional-wise I guess. At first we just kind of let him be. He's still doing all his duties, filling your shoes or whatever, but it's sort of like that's _all_ he's doing. He doesn't talk with us anymore, doesn't joke around or smile the way he did a few months ago. We've all tried to talk to him. A few of the guys even got him alone to see if it was something he wanted to keep private and just talk to a single person about, but nothing. I've tried a few times over the past week but it's only getting worse."

Sid frowned at the carpet, curling his toes into the plush strands, his mind skipping over the information he had. "So he's kind of gone back to how he was when he started?"

"He doesn't even speak with Alex for more than a few seconds, even in Russian." Tristan sniffed, the sound sliding across the line and then he blew out a breath on another sigh. "Look, I wouldn't bring it up if it didn't seem like he needed someone closer to him, you know? Sometimes you're the only one that can get to him and I know you've been dealing with your own shit and all that, but... I'm worried. Like legit worried this is more than it looks like and I can't-" Tristan's voice broke and Sid sat up straight, something hooking around his heart and making him shudder. He knew what Tristan was getting at, remembered the fragile piece of his past he'd shared with Sid a week in and nothing in him was willing to let this worry go if that's where Tristan's mind had gone.

"I understand. I'll talk to him. Just... don't give up on him, right? Keep talking even if it's a single word you get back, just keep doing it."

Tristan sounded straight up exhausted when he replied and Sid understood the emotional toll it'd taken on him to admit what he just had. "Yeah... trust me, I won't give up."

Swallowing, Sid murmured, "If _you_ need me, I'm here. Even though I'm not with the team during the games doesn't mean I'm not here, okay?"

"Yeah... thanks, man." There was a shuffling sound and then, "I'll let you go. Night, Sid."

"Night." The line clicked off and Sid settled, staring down at his phone in some amount of confusion, his mind yanking him in twenty different directions, none of them pleasant or wanted. All of them somewhat terrifying. 

He let it all sit with him, debated the Geno he'd left and then the Geno he'd talked to just last week on the phone. He hadn't sounded like this man that Tristan had described, but then again Geno was always brighter when it was him and Sid, a little lighter in the heart when they were together, as if Sid had dug his way in past the brick wall of emotions Geno kept up for everyone else. He wondered if that crack had been sealed and that was the problem. 

Swallowing, he pulled up a text thread and shot it off to Letang. _Between us, is something going on with Geno?_

The response came less than a minute later, long before Sid's phone screen turned off. _Yes. No idea what, but the boys are all worried._

_Understood._

Sid pressed send and pursed his lips, debating what best to do about this, finally erasing those messages and going to his contacts, finding Geno's and calling him. He heard the line click on at the second ring but it wasn't until a few seconds later that he heard a tired, "Yes, Sid?"

It wasn't Geno's standard greeting and something split inside Sid at even just that knowledge. He felt raw and open and like someone was preparing to tell him something horrible and he marveled for a moment at the fact that he'd felt this way last year with his mom when she'd called in the middle of the night and he'd feared the worst news. It hadn't been, but he'd known fear like this intimately. Carefully caging it up, he settled back on the couch and gave Geno his truth instead of some false veneer he'd see right through. "Hey... come over."

He heard absolutely nothing for a moment, as if the line had gone dead, and then noise, as if Geno had muted the phone for a minute and then unmuted it once he was in a louder area. It was such a Geno thing to do that it actually made Sid smile a little through his fears. "I not bother Sid."

"You're not a bother." Sid leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling, the strange stippling of the paint. "I want to see you."

The noise in the background was clearly a game and beneath it the sounds that meant Geno was in public somewhere. He wondered where he'd been that was quiet when the conversation started. "I come then. When?"

"Now? Or later... just tonight if you can."

The line went quiet again and when the sound came back, it was quiet again aside from Geno's breathing. "Coming. At home?"

"Yeah, I'm at home. Have you had dinner?"

"Yes." There was hesitation in the silence and Sid remained quiet, seeing what would come of it, rewarded when Geno spoke again. "Has Sid?"

"No, I'll order something soon." He closed his eyes and listened to Geno's breath, almost missed the quiet, "No, I bring," before the line disconnected. He moved the phone to stare down at it, at the lack of a call on the screen. He blinked and took Geno at his word, tucking his phone back into his pocket and vowing not to move until Geno was here.

It took a while, nearly an hour and Sid did end up moving - to use the restroom and because he was restless and a little worried. But when his doorbell rang, he bolted to answer it, finding Geno on the doorstep, a small smile on his lips, a hopeful look in his eyes as he regarded Sid. He looked tired, _so tired_ , but also happy. Sid stepped back and Geno came in, handing over a paper bag from his favorite Italian place. He took it and padded after Geno into the kitchen where he set out the food and retrieved a fork, unabashedly digging in, Geno leaning on the opposite side of the island. "You're a saint."

Geno's soft snort came to him, but he said nothing, which... well, that was odd. He'd expected ribbing or at least a falsely conceited remark, some part of their usual teasing. 

Sid ate, waiting on Geno to say something, finding he was just quiet and watchful and absolutely nothing like the Geno Sid had come to know and love over all these years. He set his fork down, most of the way done with his meal, and leveled him with his best serious Sid gaze. "Okay, out with it, what's going on?"

At first he didn't honestly think he was going to get an answer. The way Geno looked at him was like he was carefully sealing up all the feelings he had back inside. But then he watched it crumble, Geno's shoulders slumping, the odd little smile falling off his face, leaving him with the bags under his eyes, the abnormal paleness of his skin. Geno leaned heavily on the counter and Sid carefully put down his fork, using his thumb to wipe his lips as he waited, knowing it was the best policy for dealing with Geno.

"Sick, I think..." Geno pushed away from the island and instead leaned back against the edge of Sid's sink. He touched his chest. "Not here..." his fingers grazed his temple before flitting away. "Here." The moment grew between them and just when Sid was about to speak, Geno murmured, "Not concussion, Sid no worry about that."

The problem was, that only made Sid more worried. Tristan's worries echoed in his mind and he drew in a breath, swallowing and moving around the counter to be closer to him. He hesitated a few feet away and then reached out, brushing his hand over Geno's arm. "Come on, let's go talk in the main room."

He moved off toward the couch he'd been occupying before, listening to Geno move behind him, trailing after him. That was a relief at least, Geno not trying to bolt, not dropping a bomb and leaving. 

They settled on the couch and Sid turned to face Geno, finding he'd already tucked himself into the plushness of the couch in such a way that turned him toward Sid. He slid one leg out and let his foot rest against Geno's thigh. The hand that came to rest on his ankle surprised him in some ways and totally didn't in others. He didn't let it move him from watching Geno's face, but he pressed his toes against Geno, trying to wordlessly tell him he liked the contact. "Talk to me, G."

"Past few months... very hard." Geno shrugged, a helpless little gesture that ripped at Sid's heart. It wasn't like when other people shrugged, it wasn't a brush-off, it was hopelessness embodied in a single action and it wedged itself somewhere in Sid's chest and he knew - just _knew_ \- if Tristan hadn't reached out-

 _No_. He couldn't let that thought permeate and he focused on now, on what he could do _now_. "Sometimes it can be chemical, sometimes situational... both, too. Do you have any idea?"

Geno's gaze left his, took up studying his lap and Sid watched him breathe for a long time before Geno found it in him to speak again. "Both, I think. Been like this... years. But small, now big."

Sid shifted closer, put his hand on Geno's knee and let his thumb slide over it again and again, just the smallest pressure, the slightest reassurance that he was there. "What changed?"

"I lose Sid."

It wasn't what Sid had expected and it stole his breath away, left him choked and panicked. Something clenched so hard in his gut he felt sick with it and he had to blink himself into something reasonable, choking his words up in a rough sounding voice. "You haven't lost me, Geno. I'm right here."

The look on Geno's face was heartbreaking and for a moment Sid thought for sure he'd clam up now, refuse to tell him anything else, but instead the dam broke and Geno's everything came pouring out. "I lose. You here, but you _here_ ," he reached to lightly smack the couch. "Not with team. Not go with team, not on plane, not at game, not come to my house. You _here_ where I... I intrude." He looked more and more upset the more he poured out. "You call but only few times. I call and we talk," he held up his hand and put his thumb and index finger an inch from each other, "small time. Used to be big." He let his hand drop to his lap. "We not the same and maybe... maybe Geno feel more than he wants to."

He stood up then, the motion abrupt, his face going from something Sid could only call anguished to straight up panicked. "Sid going to hate Geno for these words later. I go before I say more."

He made it all of two steps before Sid was there, his arm catching Geno around the midsection, curling somewhat protectively, holding him still. "I wouldn't hate you, G. I don't think I ever could. Say it... say whatever it is you need to say." He gave it a moment and tossed in a soft, "Please."

Geno crumbled right before his eyes, one of the strongest men he'd ever known looking like a shadow of himself. He swallowed a few times and Sid watched his Adam's apple bob with every action, watched him attentively as he finally looked at him again, their eyes meeting, Geno's searching for something and Sid did his best to remain as open as he could, hoping Geno saw whatever he needed in him. 

"Sid... we are best of friends. We like... Jarry say peas in pod. Think he mean close." Geno took a deep enough breath Sid could hear his back crack. His hand came up nearly close enough to cup Sid's cheek and then dropped away, as if rethinking what he'd been about to do. "He not wrong, just... not say enough. It not cover enough." Geno shook his head, finally looking away, something sad in his face as he regarded the carpet beneath their feet. "I not want to lose Sid, but if he know the truth, he run."

Sid did the only thing he could think to do and reached out and rubbed his hand over Geno's bicep, his touch gentle but present, built not to scare Geno off. "I won't run. This is eating you up inside... get it outside, yeah?"

"Geno in love..." the words hung in the air, left Sid's breath stuck in his throat. "With Sid." When Geno finished his statement, the last part barely whispered, he felt lighter than he had in years. Something eased inside him he hadn't known was wound up. The sick feeling in his stomach evaporated and he didn't hesitate as he stepped in and reached to cup the back of Geno's neck, drawing him in, easing them into a gentle kiss. It was tentative, a little uncertain on both of their parts, but it _was_ and that was all that counted right then. 

He broke the kiss and drew Geno back down to the couch, settling right up next to him, thigh-to-thigh, his hand smoothing over the strong muscles there. "I feel like you just told me what this feeling inside me has been this whole time. Like I should have known and just... didn't. It feels right to think I love you, too."

Sid could actively feel Geno relax beside him and he squeezed his thigh before reaching for Geno's hand, curling their fingers together instead. They eased against each other, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. 

"I try to get better," Geno murmured and Sid squeezed his hand. "I'm here to help you, but I think maybe we should start by booking you with the team psychologist, okay?"

Geno nodded, his hand holding Sid's so tight it was obvious he was scared. "I try... for Sid."

"No, you need to try for _you_. If you need it to start for me, that's fine, but it needs to be _for you_." Sid brought their hands up to kiss Geno's, closing his eyes and pressing his hand to his cheek, just holding it there. "I'm not the only one there for you, I hope you know that."

Geno was quiet for a long time before he quietly admitted, "Guys try to talk, I no want to listen."

"It's okay, sometimes we're not ready to listen. But they're there, still. Reach out and they'll be there for you. Let them in, even if just a little, yeah?"

"Yes." Geno pursed his lips and nodded, looking determined in the same sort of way he did when it came to hockey and Sid felt better, knowing he'd at least try. He made a mental note to have Tristan reach back out to Geno, at the very least. 

"You're welcome here whenever you want to come. I mean that. Don't feel like I have to invite you for you to come over. I _want_ you here."

Geno nodded, his shoulders slumping a little. "Can Geno stay... just tonight."

"Of course. I'd feel better if you did."

Geno stared at him for long enough Sid nudged his shoulder, a little embarrassed by the attention. "What?"

"If I kiss Sid, he not run away?"

A smile slid over Sid's lips and he shook his head. "I won't run away, G."

Geno leaned over him, warm and solid and so many things Sid had barely let himself acknowledge he'd wanted since he was just a lost kid and when their lips met, it felt right. It felt like coming home and like finding the perfect place and he knew he'd never want to let this go. He couldn't let himself think of how close he'd come to losing this chance, to losing _Geno_ and it left him without his breath, left him desperate to show Geno how he felt, and if he kissed him better than he'd ever kissed another, well... that was only because it was the truth of how he felt.

It was only because he was in love.


End file.
